


Signs of Affection

by trilliath



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek being oblivious, Failwolf Friday, Fluff, Gen, Pack Feels, Werewolf Culture, pack also being oblivious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-12
Updated: 2013-04-12
Packaged: 2017-12-08 06:15:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/758041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trilliath/pseuds/trilliath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or: Five Times Derek is a Born Wolf and Nobody Gets it, and One Time They Do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Signs of Affection

**Author's Note:**

> There was some recent posts on tumblr about wolf pack affection behaviors such as grooming, walking together, laying heads on each other, etc. etc. and about how Derek would do them more naturally than turned wolves so.....

[Signs of Affection](http://trilliath.tumblr.com/post/47786489563/signs-of-affection-or-five-times-derek-is-a-born)

"You might want to double check this," the guy says, looking up from the clipboard with a confused expression on his face as he glances up at the loft and then back at the delivery truck. He extends the order form to Derek to look at. 

Derek grudgingly glances at it, then nods curtly.

"No, I mean, people order three pieces but it usually comes in the set. You know, armchair, loveseat, and full sofa."

Derek stares at him. He doesn't know if he's supposed to respond to that. 

"You bought three loveseats?" the guy says, voice flat.

Derek _scowls_ at him.

It works. The guy blinks and pulls his clipboard back, turning to march back over to the truck where he slots it into the rails inside the open bay. "Right. Nevermind. I'll have these unloaded for you right away."

 

-o0o-

 

"Okay would you stop it?" Isaac blurts, shrugging Derek's hand off his shoulder. 

Derek jerks to a halt beside him, frowning in confusion. Had he been doing something? He glances down at himself, then over at Isaac in question when he doesn't see anything wrong.

"You do this every time."

Derek lifts his eyebrows in question.

Isaac flushes, scrubbing a palm over his biceps in what is a residual nervous habit since he hardly needs to worry about warmth. "Look, I know I'm not the most stable or mature member of the pack, and even then that's saying something considering, well, the _pack_. But I'm pretty sure I can handle walking to my car without dying or having some traumatic flashback or whatever," he says, throwing up his hands in annoyance.

Derek stares at him, blinking. "Of course you can," he says, eyeing the teenager askance. 

Isaac just looks back at him the same way. They stand there for a long moment until Isaac finally blinks.

"So. Okay," Isaac says with a nod. "I'm going to walk to my car now. By myself."

Derek scowls down the sidewalk at the car sitting in the visitor parking lot, then frowns at Isaac, still confused. And maybe a little bit hurt.

"Bye Derek," he adds, backing away slowly.

"Okay. Bye." Derek shoves his hands in his jeans pockets and turns, then strides away back to his loft.

 

-o0o-

 

"What the hell man?" Scott says in a hushed whisper. 

Derek doesn't even bother to crack his eyelids open, annoyed at having been woken up from a relatively pleasant dream about deer hunting.

"What?" Stiles replies, just as quietly, chair creaking as he twists slightly to presumably glance at Scott.

"Derek. Why is he sleeping next to your bed?"

"Dude I don't even know. He just… does that sometimes while I research. Has done for a while now."

He hadn't realized it was odd. Actually he hadn't thought about it at all. He'd just done it automatically at Stiles's, probably because he didn't already have a pack scent. And because…  
Well.

"And you let him?"

"Are you kidding me? There's isn't any 'let' about two hundred pounds of alpha werewolf."

Derek winces internally. Then again, Stiles had never hesitated to speak his mind on such matters. 

There's a pause, and then Stiles adds, "Remember? 147 pounds of 100% Grade A human here."

"Right," Scott says sheepishly.

"Besides, it's not like I mind. Better here than a burned out house or abandoned train depot, right?" Stiles says softly, pencil tapping idly against his paper. "Even that new loft is pretty sketch. Like, has he had the place checked for asbestos? Not that it matters for you guys, but sheesh." Stiles hesitates for a moment, then adds, "I mean. At least it's safe here." 

Scott sighs. "Yeah, no of course. Actually a nap sounds like a really good idea right now."

"Man, when _doesn't_ it?" Stiles agrees. Derek can practically hear the eyeroll.

"Around the full moon," Scott answers seriously, though the question had clearly been rhetorical. "I don't like taking naps around the full moon because I'm always so full of energy."

Stiles huffs an amused sigh, which Derek feels echoed in his chest.

"So, you ready to help me work on that history project?"

"Only if you're going to agree to do either a reenactment of the battle with me or switch back to the sexual practices of roman soldiers," Stiles says, smug.

"Aww man," Scott grumbles. 

"Those are my terms."

"Fine," Scott murmurs. There's a moment of quiet, then the sound of Stiles's chair swiveling. "Let's just, uh… living room. Let him sleep."

"Yeah."

"It's still weird," he murmurs as the door closes.

"Yeah."

 

-o0o-

 

Derek doesn't even bother to interrupt his intended motion of resuming his spot on the loveseat when the knock sounds on the door. He just opens his book again, even though Boyd glances up from his homework to lift a questioning eyebrow at him. Derek just shakes his head. Boyd hesitates, then shrugs, shifting slightly on the couch when Derek's shoulder brushes his as he leans back. 

The key turns and the door opens moments later anyway. An understanding look passes over Boyd's features when Peter strolls into the room, smirking at them. Peter casts a look down at the textbooks spread over the coffee table.

"Physics?" he asks as he meanders into the kitchen area, tugging open the fridge in order to rifle through the drinks selection.

"Calculus," Boyd responds.

Peter squints at him as he returns, amused, beer in hand. "Same thing. Eventually."

"Right," Boyd says with a nod that says he's humoring the older man.

Peter just chuckles in good humor, selecting a book from the shelf before sitting on the couch on Boyd's other side, causing a minor shuffle for space. But after a moment they settle in and he's propping his feet up on the coffee table with a contented sigh.

Derek smiles faintly and continues reading, relaxing back in his seat. The loft is starting to smell like pack what with the various members of their group coming by at odd hours to hang out. A refuge for the teens, for varied reasons. For the most part they've maintained the quiet that Derek prefers, though there has, of course, been the occasional roughhousing fun. That's part of being pack too. He shifts after a while, putting his arm around the back of the couch as a concession to the broad shoulders of three men, leaning into Boyd's warmth a little without thinking about it.

"Need any help?" Peter asks, leaning closer to peer over Boyd's shoulder at his notes. "Seems like you've been on that one for a while. I took a few upper-div math classes in undergrad."

Derek smiles at his uncle's offer, pleased at the genuine desire to help. Perhaps they'd grow to like him again one day, even if trust was a ways off.

Boyd isn't smiling though, he realizes, expression fading. In fact he looks distinctly off.

"Uh thanks, but you know what? I should probably get going," Boyd says, closing his textbook with a thump. "My sister's probably getting home from soccer soon."

"Okay," Derek replies absently, going back to his book.

Boyd hesitates a moment, looking at him long enough to have Derek looking up in question as Boyd's gaze shifts between him and Peter, who is also looking at Boyd with a raised eyebrow. 

Then, oddly, his expression shifts from confused to embarrassed and tosses his things in his bag quickly.

"Uh. Thanks for the offer though," he murmurs before scooting past Derek's knees to head for the front door. Derek frowns after him a moment, then turns his gaze back to his book.

"Was it something I said?" Peter asks the air, face curling into a moue of mocking disappointment, though the questioning glance he sends Derek is genuine enough. 

Derek just shrugs, shaking his head in baffled agreement.

 

-o0o-

 

"Ugh!" he hears Erica grunt, then the clatter of some object on the bathroom sink a few seconds later. "Stupid, ridiculous…," she mutters, voice trailing off into a frustrated string of expletives. It reminds him of Laura. She used to do that sometimes when she was getting ready to go but was stressed out over something.

His curiosity gets the better of him and he meanders over, peering through the half-open bathroom door at her. Her hair is a tangled, knotted mass hanging lopsidedly from her head and she's glaring something fierce. That wasn't like Laura. Well, except for the glaring. He nudges the door open when she glances at him in the mirror and pouts.

"What's wrong?" he asks, eyes skimming over the array of pins and hair-ties and the like that are laying half-spilled out of her makeup bag.

"It's nothing," she says breezily, reaching up to tug a pin back out of her hair, sending half of it cascading back down over her shoulders in a fall that is much less artful than she had probably intended. He also doesn't miss the fact that her nonchalance is feigned. She scowls at the mirror. "I should have known better than to try it."

"Try what?" 

She frowns at her hair, tugging another pin out roughly. It's still hopelessly tangled, and hangs unevenly even without the pins. "Just… Allison. She always has her hair in these fancy braids and… I just wanted to do something besides my usual two tricks," she says. "Well, three; sortof straight, wavy, and chaos," she explains, flicking her fingers at her head on the last one. 

"You know, something elegant. Apparently that's beyond me." She sighs heavily as she chucks another pin at the counter. 

He frowns. He hates to see insecurities about her appearance rearing their ugly head again. "Like how she wore it Saturday at the lacrosse game?" Derek asks, picking up the discarded hairbrush and starting in on the less-tangled ends nearest him, carefully working out the strands into smooth lines again. "I can help you with that. If you want."

"Yeah," she says softly. When he glances up she's staring wide-eyed at him in the mirror. But she blinks and smiles faintly when he catches her looking, a hint of her usual saucy self returning. 

He shrugs. "Laura used to do her hair like that sometimes."

Later, when he's cooking up some spaghetti for the pack meeting slowly coalescing at his place, Isaac compliments her on her new hairdo. Despite the noise of the boiling water and the knife on the cutting-board, he can hear when she leans close to Isaac and whispers, " _Derek_ did it for me."

"You're shitting me."

He can practically hear the grin spreading across Isaac's face.

"He brushed my hair. Derek _braids_!"

Derek scowls at his pack when he brings out the food, and nobody mentions it, but he doesn't miss the sidelong glances that shift between him and Erica's head for the rest of the night.

 

-o0o-

 

He has a strange feeling even before he gets down the stairs to the front door. Just… something. So he's not entirely surprised when he opens the door to see Stiles with a comforter draped over his shoulders. Not _entirely_.

Stiles squeezes past him with a self-satisfied smirk. The rest of the gang follows closely, similarly adorned in blankets, pillows, and a giant armful of snacks, each with varying looks of knowing pride, sheepishness and in a few cases, put-upon pouts.

They make their way straight to the living area, moving the coffee table out of the way and then pulling the couch cushions down onto the floor. The blankets and pillows get added to the pile while Isaac sets up a laptop on the coffee table. As he starts up a DVD, the others start piling onto the soft layer on the floor.

Then Stiles is coming back, making Derek realize he's still standing by the open front door. He grabs Derek's hand and pulls him along to the others. They've left a space in the middle, and with a tug of Stiles's hand, he understands what he's expected to do. He doesn't understand why they're doing this, but with his pack all smiling up at him he can't think of a good reason not to acquiesce. He sits, and Boyd immediately leans in to settle against his shoulder, Erica snugged up against his chest between his legs. Isaac leans in against Derek's other side, and Allison and Scott make an impossible pile of limbs amid Isaac's legs next to Derek's other thigh. Stiles, satisfied with everyone's arrangement, turns and starts the movie. 

"The Night of the Werewolf," Derek says flatly as the opening credits come. "Really."

Allison shushes him theatrically and Stiles just smirks as he returns to the pile, slinging himself down in front of Erica when she makes grabby-hands. Then he settles his head right on Derek's thigh as Erica loops her legs over his waist. Boyd's arm goes around his shoulder and Erica's cheek tips against Derek's arm. 

He sits a little stiffly. Everything is warm and soft and _pack_ and... he doesn't know what to do with that.

Except he _does_. Out of all of them, he's the one that knows. He's the one this comes naturally for. And for whatever reason, they're doing it for _him_. Being pack in more than words.

After a moment of hesitation he lifts his arm to slip around Isaac's shoulder. Leans in to Boyd and Erica. Slings his other hand over Stiles's shoulder. Then he finally relaxes and settles in for evening.

 

It really is a terrible movie. He thinks that probably makes this even better.


End file.
